


while you were sleeping

by midnight sun (notyoongs)



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: !!!, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Post-Canon, The End, all canon though, author is whipped, bed sharing, galo is whipped, lio is whipped, oh my god they were roommates, references to past abuse, they are fools in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:26:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22910188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyoongs/pseuds/midnight%20sun
Summary: in his dreams, lio is always dying.(or: galo has been having nightmares. lio finally finds out.)
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 20
Kudos: 334





	while you were sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> i love promare!! so i decided to write about it. probably shit characterization but i just wanted to write lio taking care of his big baby and the exasperated fools in love that they are ;; enjoy <3

in his dream, lio is dying.

in his dreams, lio is always dying. it’s a concept he is loath to be familiar with, and yet when that image materializes before him once more—lio lying before him, body battered and bruised, slowly giving way to the ash that he was always destined to become as a burnish—the novelty has long since worn off. instead, galo feels frustration like promare burning deep within him; here he is again. here they are again.

lio is dying again.

he has lived this scene too many times and knows exactly what he must and _will_ do—even knowing now, too, how it will end, because it ends like this every time. despite knowing that no matter what he does, he cannot change the outcome, galo’s panic is a beast. it screams in his chest, urges him toward lio’s body. he kneels, hands feeling useless against lio’s cooling body. “hey!” he snaps. “lio! _lio!_ don’t die, you can’t die—”

galo pumps his hands against lio’s chest, trying to will his heart to beat. of course—nothing. he knows how this goes. he begs, but lio doesn’t come back. finally, he tilts lio’s chin up with two of his fingers and, summoning the promare flame lio gave to him, swallows it whole. it burns within him before he leans over and presses his mouth to lio’s, breathing the fire back into him.

he knows how this goes. the first time it happened, it worked—galo breathed his life and that last bit of the promare into lio’s body, and lio came back to him. lio’s body mended, his heart beat again, his eyes opened. but this is galo’s dream. and in galo’s dream, lio is dying.

in galo’s dream, lio doesn’t come back.

he breathes and breathes, trying to force the fire back into lio’s body to save him, but lio doesn’t move. he doesn’t open his eyes. when galo finally gives up, tears of panic and desperation wetting his eyes, he sits up to see the swirling ashes of lio’s body curling around him, the breeze taking them away. lio is disintegrating before him, and galo shakes him, tries again to breathe life into him with a kiss, begs and pleads, and lio is dying, lio is always fucking _dying_ —

when galo wakes, it’s with a barely concealed muffle of a shout. he’s gotten used to this part, too—the after part, when he wakes up and has to keep himself from making a noise should he regret it. when he sits up in bed, there’s a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead and his legs are tangled in the blankets, a sure sign that he’s been tossing and turning in his sleep. sometimes, he wakes to find himself clutching his pillow hard enough to tear his own fingernails.

the sun hasn’t yet risen, the room blessedly dark, and when galo checks the time, it’s barely past five in the morning. he wills his heart to calm, bringing himself back to the present, to reality, to the one place his nightmares haven’t come true. when he was younger, nightmares were few and far between, but they always involved fire—the fire that took his childhood home. when he would wake in a fit from dreams of overwhelming heat and the roof falling in on him before he could get out, it was hard to remind himself that he was _safe._ he’d creep through the house, patting down the doorframes and checking the stove, the oven, the drawer where the matches were kept, just to be sure there was no danger.

now, all he has to do is look down to the man sleeping beside him. galo watches lio’s lithe form, too similar to the nearly-dead lio of his dreams, and then slides down until he can gently lean his cheek against lio’s chest. when he closes his eyes, he can just hear lio’s heartbeat. he can feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest, feel the air of his exhales in a definitive sign that he’s alive. here lio is _alive._

and, perhaps better at this point—he doesn’t seem to have been disturbed by galo’s nightmare. this, too, is what galo’s body has gotten used to: suppressing the very real fear and panic that comes with the nightmares. he might toss and turn, but galo has claimed he’s simply a fitful sleeper. when he wakes from a nightmare choking on his own shouts, it’s to make sure he doesn’t wake lio.

further, galo has his own defenses; he’s never asleep when lio is awake. he waits until lio is deep in slumber before letting himself drift off and he makes sure to wake before lio does. it doesn’t make for the best sleeping habits, but it’s better than the alternative, isn’t it? and, besides—it’s never too early in the morning for a workout before heading to the station.

it was easier at first, when lio had first moved in after the promare had gone and galo roped lio, along with meis and gueria. into helping with the clean-up. lio slept on the couch no matter how much galo insisted he take the bed, claiming that he was used to sleeping in much worse conditions and besides, he wasn’t going to _stay._

but then he did. and when he did, he started to gravitate toward the bed anyway, until one day, galo woke up and realized lio had been sleeping in his bed for days now, and neither of them had ever really brought it up. galo prefers it—likes having lio close, always likes having lio close, but now it’s harder to keep from waking lio after his nightmares when they’re in the same bed. the few times he has, he’s blamed it on lio hogging the blankets—which he does, anyway, perpetually cold now without the promare to warm him—or a loud noise outside startling him. lio is a surprisingly deep sleeper considering the life he’s lived, always having to be on watch. when galo teased him about it in front of the rest of the burning rescue team, aina just walked by and commented, “he always had to be on alert because he was in danger. i guess now that he’s somewhere he feels safe, he can sleep as deeply as he wants.”

galo tried not to dwell too much on that, but—

he almost lets himself drift to sleep again like this, cheek pressed to lio’s (moving, breathing, _living_ ) chest and one arm wrapped lazily around lio’s waist. but if he falls asleep again, he might dream. and if he dreams, he will dream of lio dying, and perhaps beyond not wanting to wake lio and alert him to the dreams in the first place, the truth is that galo would never sleep another minute in his life if it meant he doesn’t have to be back _there._ doesn’t have to see lio dying again, doesn’t have to see him _die_ once and for all this time. he never wants to not be able to save lio. he never wants to watch lio die again, and if he sleeps now, he _will._

so galo merely turns his head until he can press a kiss into the center of lio’s chest and then pulls himself away. he’s content knowing lio is alive and here, that they never have to relive that day from two months ago. in a few hours, after galo has finished his workout and washed up and eaten and headed to the station, lio will be there. he’ll make a comment about galo’s hair or his refusal to wear a shirt or his snoring, as he always does, and behind the exasperated words will be that fond little grin he saves for when he thinks galo isn’t looking. and he will be _alive._ and galo will love him even more for it, for having lio here, living and moving and teasing him, when his dreams take lio from him night after night.

he yearns to wrap lio up and have one dreamless night, to stay in that goddamn bed with him, but he can’t. so galo leaves instead. he always just leaves.

/

galo manages to hide his nightmares from lio for two months, despite several close calls. and then, after those two months, lio gives him little choice.

“you’ve slept for four hours in the past three days total,” lio says as he drags galo toward the oft used bed in the burning rescue station. it’s a feat that he can drag galo at all, but galo might not be trying that hard to get away from him even as he complains—“seriously, galo, you need to rest.”

“i need to be out there!” galo protests, dragging his feet behind him as lio kicks open the door to the room and brings galo to the bed. “there’s still work to be done!” although work has slowed since the clean-up of the city finished and there aren’t any burnish to set fires, there’s still plenty to be done in respects to helping the burnish at all; when burning rescue isn’t firefighting, they’ve taken to heading efforts to aid the burnish in relocating and assimilating back into the city. three days ago, a group of burnish were victim to a targeted attack by civilians not keen on letting them into their neighbourhoods and nearly an entire street had been blown sky high. burning rescue had been the first on the scene and for the past three days, they’ve been working tirelessly not only to clean up the area, but help the burnish who were affected.

galo hasn’t really slept in the past three days, but he has good reason.

lio isn’t having any of it, though, pushing galo down onto the bed and frowning at him. “i know you want to help them,” he says. “trust me, i understand how your _burning soul_ wants to do whatever you can. i want to help them too. those are my people.” for a second, galo thinks lio might be changing his mind, but then lio says, “but you can’t help anyone if you’re overtired. you won’t be able to think straight and then you’ll make mistakes and end up hurting people instead.”

“nonsense,” argues galo. “lio, seriously, i’m fine. could someone who needs rest do this?”

lio blinks at him. “do what?”

“oh,” says galo. “i thought i was juggling pillows. why aren’t my hands working?”

“see?” asks lio. “you need to sleep. just for a few hours and then we can go back out and help them.”

_we_ —galo blanches at that, watching as lio makes his way to the small desk in the corner of the room and pulls out the chair. “what do you mean?” he asks. “why are you here?”

“we’re a team, galo,” says lio with a roll of his eyes, as though it’s obvious. and it _is;_ galo and lio have been working as a pair since lio first joined burning rescue, and they work well together as they did on that fateful day two months ago. but that doesn’t mean they can’t work apart. “i’m going to stay here and make sure you actually sleep.”

galo scowls. “i don’t need a babysitter.”

“clearly you do. lay down, galo.”

“lio, seriously—”

“galo thymos, for fuck’s sake, if you don’t put your head on that pillow and close your eyes in the next five seconds, i’ll sit on you.” galo cocks an eyebrow, considering taking his chances; lio might be strong for his size, but he’s still incredibly light, especially for someone of galo’s stature. he doesn’t work out for nothing. but lio just narrows his eyes, crossing his arms and propping his feet up on the desk.

once galo realizes he’s not getting out of this even with his intense desire to help the victims, his mind immediately switches to the next pressing issue—if galo sleeps with lio just sitting there and watching him, galo might dream. and lio will find out. everything he’s been working toward for the past two months, all of his careful precautions, will have been for nought.

but the thing about the two of them working well together is that they’re both headstrong and determined. when they’re working toward the same goal, it means they’ll stop at nothing to accomplish what they desire. it’s when that stubbornness is aimed at _each other_ that things get complicated.

“galo,” says lio again. “sleep.”

“only if you sleep with me,” says galo. “you’re probably tired, too, and if you’re going to be here anyway, you might as well get some rest. then we can go out and work together with both of us refreshed.” lio seems to consider that this might be a way for galo to get out of sleeping at all—he could wait until lio falls asleep and then sneak away—but the truth is that now that galo is here with no way out, he has to admit he _is_ really worn out. he just needs to make sure lio won’t be awake to see him wake up panicking.

after weighing his options, lio thankfully comes to the easiest conclusion: “fine, i’ll sleep with you. but if you so much as twitch in your sleep, i’ll know.”

galo swallows tightly, finally lying down on the bed and leaving enough room for lio to slip in after him. this bed is much smaller than his own, though, and the two of them shuffle around for a minute as they try to find the most comfortable position until lio just huffs and slides half on top of galo, one leg hitched over galo’s hip and his face pressed into the juncture of galo’s neck.

“i agreed to sleep and you’re still sitting on me,” says galo.

“shut up,” says lio, pinching his chest. “go to sleep, galo.”

“i’m just saying this totally isn’t doing anything to actually keep me d—” he lets out an embarrassing _yip_ when he feels lio _biting_ him, the sensitive skin at the side of his neck. but then he feels the soft kiss lio presses there in apology, and he doesn’t think he could move even if he wanted to. his breath is shallow.

distantly, lio murmurs, “i said go to sleep.”

galo’s mouth is thick. “i was just saying.”

“galo.”

“lio.”

and—lio kisses the side of his neck again, this time like a question or an incentive. galo is glad lio can’t see the dumb grin on his face, letting his hand settle against the small of lio’s back as he finally closes his eyes and lets himself fall.

(in his dream, lio is dying.

in his dreams, lio is always dying. it’s a concept he is loath to be familiar with, and yet when that image materializes before him once more—lio lying before him, body battered and bruised, slowly giving way to the ash that he was always destined to become as a burnish—the novelty has long since worn off. instead, galo feels frustration like promare burning deep within him; here he is again. here they are again.

lio is dying again—)

“—lo! _galo!_ ” someone is shaking him, shouting his name, and galo finds himself pulled from the familiar dream even if it doesn’t want to let him go. it hurts, somehow, when he’s finally thrown back into consciousness and he snaps awake, inhaling a deep breath as he lurches into a sitting position. he breathes hard, at first unaware of the hands on his arms, then shoulders, then one pressed against his forehead, until he manages to focus and realizes he’s still at the station, in bed, with lio kneeling in front of him, concern creasing his face.

“galo?” it’s lio’s voice, as it was calling him before. “are you okay?”

galo stares at him. and he knows, rationally, that lio has been here the whole time, has been alive this whole time. he’s been alive for the past two months even if galo’s mind likes to take him back to that day and rearrange fate, and yet—just seconds ago, lio was dying and no matter what galo tried, nothing was bringing him back. seeing lio here, _alive_ and so full of concern for galo’s wellbeing, has emotion welling up inside of galo.

“hey,” says lio again, when galo doesn’t respond. he cups galo’s cheek with his hand, searching for anything in his eyes. “talk to me, galo.”

instead, galo lurches forward and wraps his arms around lio in a tight embrace. he holds lio close to him, pressing his face into the side of lio’s head as he tries to calm the racing of his heart and mind—lio is here. lio is alive. he’s always alive. but he needs to hold lio, needs to _know_ without a shadow of a doubt that he’s okay. he breathes in deep, breathes in the scent of lio’s hair—he smells like galo’s shampoo—and curls his fingers into the back of lio’s shirt like if he tries hard enough, they can become one again.

lio makes a surprised noise, but then he wraps his own arms around galo. “you’re okay,” he says quietly, rubbing his hand along galo’s upperback. “you’re fine. you’re with me, galo. not going anywhere.” galo shuts his eyes, trying to stave off the swell of tears that hits him at lio’s words. because he’s right—lio isn’t going anywhere. but the feeling of lio dying and leaving him was so real. when he can run away and exercise off that excess emotion, it’s easy to deal with the baggage that comes with the nightmares.

but galo can’t do that now. all he has is this: lio in his arms and lio’s words in his ears and the fleeting, aching belief that this is it. this is all he needs.

before long, lio asks, “are you okay? it looked like you were having a nightmare.”

galo stiffens, immediately forcing himself to let go of lio. when he sits back, he avoids eye contact as he says, “it was nothing. i’m fine.”

even without looking, he can tell lio is giving him a customary look that tells him to cut the bullshit. “you were tossing and turning a lot and making weird noises. and then you started shouting my name. doesn’t sound like nothing to me.”

“that’s just how i sleep,” says galo, already shifting to swing his legs over the side of the bed, intent on putting his shoes back on. “i said i’m fine, lio. let’s go save some burnish, okay?”

“why did you hug me like that, then?” but galo already has his shoes on, is standing and heading for the door. “galo, seriously— _galo!_ ” lio catches his hand, tugging him back. when galo turns around, he sees something he didn’t expect—he thought lio would be angry and stubborn, as he so often is when galo tries to withhold information from him. but the look on lio’s face is pure… _hurt._ his brows are furrowed, lips dipping into a frown that’s all sorrow and no anger. “galo,” he says quietly, and god, it breaks galo’s heart. “please tell me what’s going on.”

and see—this is why galo didn’t want lio to know. because lio doesn’t deserve to shoulder galo’s pain, too, doesn’t deserve to feel that when he has his own pain. when he’s suffered enough, has carried the burden of his people’s pain for years. even now, he’s carrying that burden when his people aren’t accepted into society, when he remembers the burnish he wasn’t able to save.

lio has nightmares, too. galo is used to those—used to waking up to _lio_ waking up from a nightmare about not being able to save his people or burning up with his own promare fire or any number of other things, years and years of oppression and anger dealt to him at the hands of every person who didn’t understand.

so why should he have to deal with galo’s pain, too? why should he have to deal with galo’s nightmares, too? nightmares that are nothing compared to lio’s, his years of tragedy and pain and hurt. despite his tough exterior, lio is infinitely compassionate and empathetic, especially for the suffering. it’s what made him such a good leader for the burnish. when he decides he cares for someone, he will do anything to see their happiness, will carry their pain for them—and oh, he cares for galo now.

he will carry this for galo now. but he _shouldn’t have to._

and yet—he’s already carrying it, in a way, simply with that hurt look as he begs galo to let him in. in a way, by trying to keep his pain from lio, galo has caused him pain anyway. galo wants to be strong, wants to be the headstrong person that lio and the other burnish need now in the aftermath of such devastation. but by doing so, by not letting lio in, he’s only causing _more_ pain.

galo takes a breath, and then he turns fully to face lio, looking down at their joined hands when he says, “i did have a nightmare. and i’ve been having nightmares for two months.”

“two months?” lio asks. “and you didn’t tell me? i thought we were closer than that.”

“we _are,_ ” sighs galo, returning to the bed and sitting down next to lio. he runs the pads of his fingers of lio’s smaller ones, his knuckles, the lines of his palms. “that’s the problem. i didn’t want you to worry about me when you have enough to worry about.”

“galo,” begins lio, exasperated as he so often is with galo, but now that he’s begun, galo knows he has to rush on before lio can truly get upset with him.

“you’ve been through so much, lio,” he says. “you’ve suffered so much and you’re still suffering even though you shouldn’t be. you’ve lived in terrible conditions and been experimented on, been _tortured_ by the people who should have been protecting you. you fought and bled and bore the pain of an entire demographic of people—and you’re still doing that now, because even without the promare, they’re still _your_ people. you have your own nightmares that are so terrible just from what you tell me, and—” galo huffs out a laugh, looking up at the light filtering in through the curtains over the window. “you’re so strong, lio. but i see how you suffer. i see that look in your eyes when we go out deal with another attack on the burnish, and i see how it hurts you to see their pain. i see how you take their pain and make it yours, so that you can give them your happiness instead, and… i don’t want you to do that for me.”

when they first met, he saw lio only as the pillar of strength that he had to be for the burnish. it’s rare for lio to show his own weakness anyway, but once they became friends and then teetered into something more over the past two months, lio let him _in._ and galo has come to see the vulnerability beneath the strength, has learned how lio weaves his own weaknesses into an armour against his oppressors.

he _sees_ lio. he _knows_ lio. and he knows what lio would do if he knew about the nightmares.

“i don’t want you to take on my pain, too, when you already have so much of your own,” galo continues. “you don’t deserve that. you’ve been through enough and i didn’t want to worry you or make things worse. because i know you would worry about me if you knew i had nightmares, even if i told you i was fine.”

as if an instinctual reaction, lio mutters, “i wouldn’t.”

“you would, lio. this is—this is how you love people. you try to crush their pain with your own hands, but i didn’t want you to have to deal with my pain on top of your own. and…” galo exhales sharply, cheeks colouring when he has to admit the next part: “i didn’t really think i deserved to be in pain anyway.”

“galo,” says lio, voice already a scold, and galo squeezes his hand.

“i know,” he says. “but you know me—i’m the tough one. i’m the one who doesn’t let anything stop me, who bounces back no matter how many times i get knocked down. my burning soul will ignite the whole world on fire!” his laugh at his own comment is weak. “so who am i if i have nightmares that terrify me so much that sometimes it’s hard to get out of bed in the morning? how am i supposed to go out there and help people if i’m too busy being weak because of my nightmares?”

he knows it’s a silly idea, especially when he hears it out of his own mouth, but he doesn’t expect lio to say, “does that mean you think i’m weak for having nightmares, too? ones that scare me that badly?”

“what?” asks galo, head snapping up to look at lio. “no! of course not!”

“then why would they make you weak?”

“it’s—it’s _different._ ”

“they’re nightmares, galo. you can’t control them and you can’t control whether or not you _have_ them.”

“but i don’t have a _right_ to have them. you’ve been through crazy shit, so having nightmares makes _sense,_ but me—it’s just one thing, one thing that didn’t even go _wrong_ and somehow it has to come back and haunt me night after night.”

lio huffs out what sounds like an angry breath, and then he gently pulls his hand out of galo’s grasp. “i think you’re being stupid,” he says. “you’re allowed to have nightmares, galo. and you can’t—you can’t assume i’m too weak to handle your pain just because i have enough pain already.”

“that’s not what i said.”

“but it’s what you meant, isn’t it?” lio’s eyes are sharp when they meet galo’s. and galo—doesn’t know. he didn’t think of it like that. “you’re scared of overwhelming me. you don’t want me to worry because you think that your pain will be the thing that tips the scales and makes everything too much for me and i’ll crumble under the weight of it. well fuck you, because i’m the leader of the mad burnish and i’ve been through _shit,_ galo thymos. you said it yourself. if you don’t think that i can handle your nightmares, then i don’t want to handle any of your shit. not even the good stuff.”

galo wasn’t expecting such a reaction. he sits and stares at lio, who is busy glaring at the wall. and galo _doesn’t_ think lio is weak—in fact, he thinks lio is probably the strongest person he’s ever met—but he didn’t think his attempts to protect lio would come off that way.

before he can say anything, though, lio adds, “i mean, i get it. i get why you didn’t want me to know. i get you wanting to protect me, galo. but you didn’t even give me the choice to worry about you.” he looks over at galo, and there’s that sad look again. galo made him _sad._ “you kept your pain from me because you wanted to protect me, but why do you get the choice to protect me and i don’t get the choice to _protect_ you? because i want to protect you, galo, even if you don’t think you need it. i _want_ to worry about you. i _want_ to know about your pain, not to take it on so you don’t have to deal with it, but so that we can deal with it _together._ that’s what—” he pauses, seeming to consider his next words before he finishes: “that’s what friends do, don’t they?”

galo swallows. “i’m sorry,” he says. “i didn’t think you would be so upset about it. i just didn’t want to hurt you.”

“you have a good heart, galo,” says lio. “but sometimes your head is a little thick.” he surprises galo by reaching up and flicking his forehead. and then he pushes galo over until he’s lying on his back again, giving lio the chance to crawl on top of him, to wrap his arms around galo’s torso and lay his head against galo’s clavicle. “sorry. sorry, that was selfish,” he whispers. “i should be comforting you about your nightmares.”

“see?” asks galo. “you’re too worried about being selfless. you’re allowed to be upset over me not telling you about this.”

“shut up and let me cuddle you, galo,” scolds lio, and galo does, biting back a grin. the truth is, he cares little about comfort over the nightmares; he’s had enough of them to know how to deal with them, and he knows that simply knowing lio is alive is enough for him. but he’s never going to say no to lio willingly cuddling him in broad daylight, in the station, where anyone could feasibly walk into the room at any moment. galo wouldn’t even mind the teasing.

for a time, neither of them says anything, and then galo says, “you’re always dying in my nightmares.” lio does deserve to know about them. it’s clear he wants to take care of galo, and the only way he can is if galo lets him, and—lio is right. he’s not going to crack under the weight of this knowledge. “it’s always that day, when we saved the world. and you’re always lying there, turning to ash, and you’re not breathing, and no matter what i do, you won’t come back. no matter how hard i try, you’re just… you’re dead.” he wraps his arms around lio in protection against his own fears, reminding himself that lio is here. he is always here. he’s not going anywhere. “it scares me so bad.”

“you die in my nightmares, too,” lio tells him quietly. somehow, galo is surprised to hear this. “usually they’re about a lot of things, not all of them concrete. there’s always fire and screaming and i’m running but i never get to the screams. i never get to the people i know i need to help. but sometimes, they’re more solid. and it’s you and i burn you with my promare and you die thinking i’m the enemy.” galo slides his hand up lio’s back, up his neck, thumbing at his hairline. “sometimes you don’t actually die, but you still think i’m the enemy and you leave me and the world burns anyway. you see me and you decide you don’t like it.”

“i do see you,” says galo carefully. “and i like it. very much.”

he can practically feel lio’s grin from here. “and i am alive,” he replies. “i’m not going anywhere.”

and isn’t that enough? for two months, galo has agonized over his nightmares, fearful of hurting lio if he found out about them. but only now, when they bear the pain together, can they reassure each other of the truth that their dreams try to take from them. hearing it from lio’s own mouth will always be better than repeating it to himself. _he is alive. he’s not going anywhere._

“silly,” lio sighs. “silly of you to think i wouldn’t want to know any of this. i want to know everything about you, galo. i want to know all of your pain and all of your happiness. i want to share everything with you, not just the good stuff. okay?” he leans up on galo’s chest, their eyes meeting. “i want to know everything.”

galo opens his mouth to say something, but what comes out is, “can i kiss you?”

his own eyes widen slightly at the words. he hadn’t meant to say it, but—of course he had, in a way. he’s been meaning to say it for two months. but now, somehow, he knows the answer he’ll get.

“are you just asking that because i’m being nice to you?” asks lio.

“you said you want to know everything,” counters galo, sitting up and forcing lio to do the same, practically sitting in galo’s lap. “so i’m telling you i would like to kiss you. i would like to kiss you all the time, not just in my nightmares when i’m trying to bring you back to life. i’d like to kiss you… for _fun._ ”

“you don’t kiss people for _fun,_ galo; you kiss them for romance and sex.”

“is that a yes or a no, lio?”

“idiot firefighter,” huffs lio, already sliding a hand around the back of galo’s neck to pull him in. “of course it’s a yes.”

/

later, after they’ve finished their rescue efforts for the affected burnish and have finally returned to their apartment, collapsing into bed after an exhausting day, lio asks, “you’ll tell me now, right? if you have a nightmare. i want to help you, galo. we can deal with them together. mine, too.”

galo considers his options before he asks, “will you kiss me if i have a nightmare?”

lio’s stare is fatal. when he doesn’t reply, galo sinks into the bed, throwing a hand over his forehead as he says dramatically, “oh no. i think i’m having a nightmare right now. quick, lio, you have to smother me with your delicate and soft lips to drive the night demons away!”

“you are literally awake.”

“it’s taking over! i’ll succumb to the terror and pain of my nightmares if you don’t get on top of me right now and save me.”

“galo thymos.”

“lio, seriously, kiss me—” and he yelps when lio practically jumps on top of him in retaliation, but he does kiss galo, and galo does agree to stop hiding his nightmares and he knows, now more than ever, that it’s not about carrying each other’s pain. it’s not about who has suffered worse or more, who deserves to be in pain. none of that matters. what matters is that it’s okay—so much of that pain, so much of what makes up those nightmares is in the past, something they never have to worry about again. and now, every time galo wakes in the middle of the night with a sob caught in his throat and the memory of lio dying beneath his hands, he has something much better to replace those memories with: these memories. these _new_ memories. of lio with him, and lio taking care of him, and lio loving him.

in his dream, they are alive.

in his dream, they are alive _together._

**Author's Note:**

> [+twitter](https://twitter.com/notyoongs)   
>  [+curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/notyoongs)


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